


I could really use a wish right now.

by midoridev



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: "but he was getting better!", Angst, Character Death, Kinda Songfic, M/M, Oops, Self-Harm, Suicide, fiances, i made this a while ago ive definitely improved maybe ill recreate this, oof, this is so rushed idek if its sad tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 12:36:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midoridev/pseuds/midoridev
Summary: Could a shooting star fix his problems?It was worth a shot and so,Lance made a wish on an airplane.





	I could really use a wish right now.

The night was silent- the only noises were the ringing of cars flying down the freeway on Lance’s way back to his house. The radio’s tranquil hum of early 2000s music was putting the Cuban in a relaxed mood. The songs were from a simpler time- he didn’t work forty-five hours a week for Voltron Co.- times where his family was all that mattered and insecurities were fixed by his mother sitting him down with a hug. Times where he could get lost in the breeze of the ocean late at night. With his countless siblings, he’d reach for a pair of old binoculars and scout for horseshoe crabs and mermaids. He smiled and thought of the whistling noises he would teach his younger brother to make by cupping his hands- or the blade of grass whistling! 

Why can you whistle with so many things?

Maybe he’d ask Keith. It’d probably make the black-haired boy smile wide. Lance rolled 

down the windows and let the wind blow his hand in every direction.  _ Keith.  _ If he were in the car with him, the radio would be blaring and he’d be rolling his purple-black looking eyes that shone and reflected stars. The most phenomenal thing about eyes is how they’re the windows to the soul but when you get close enough to examine them, a mirror image of you was in them. Of course, Lance’s grandmother would always speak of how if you looked that deep into someone’s eyes and saw yourself, it meant that you had contributed to that piece of their personality and moral- that  _ soul.  _ Boy, did Keith and Lance see each other in their eyes. Now, eyes shining with excitement, Lance pressed the gas pedal and accelerated. He couldn’t wait to see Keith. It was the first month since he finished therapy and Lance wanted to make sure he was celebrating his fiance’s recovery from his battle with depression. He had gone out of his way to bring home toasted marshmallow flavored macaroons because Lance knew they were his favorite. The phone clamped to a stand on the dashboard of Lance’s car notified the boy that his phone was on 1%. He opened his phone, he was still about half an hour away from Keith and his shared apartment.

“Hey babe, I’ll be home in 30.”

The response was immediate: “O.K. Love you. The sky is beautiful tonight.”

Lance began replying back when his phone powered down. He muttered a curse word and found himself staring at the full moon and how it seemed to follow the Cuban boy as he drove his shitty Buick down this never-ending road. A headlight was out and hindered his sharp eyesight acutely but proved to only be a nuisance- not a really big problem. Daydreaming was more distracting than the stupid headlight and Lance found himself constantly swerving left slightly every time his mind wandered.

He stared at the sleek dark silver ring on his finger and smiled profusely. He remembered how Keith had hid the ring box at the bottom of the sugar jar. The boy knew how much Lance  _ adored  _ peach iced tea and every morning would make him some instead of coffee(which Keith made for himself). But as the sugar grew less and less, Keith began to “wake up late” and force Lance to make his own peach tea. It was never as good as Keith’s- which was a surprise, considering the previously moody boy could find a way to burn  _ cereal _ . One morning, on August 13th, Lance had made some iced tea and used the rest of the sugar, pouring it out of the sugar jar directly(as opposed to scooping out exact teaspoons like Keith would- maybe that’s why he makes it better). As he practically dumped the rest of the sugar into the glass, an engagement ring box clunked into the cup with a piece of paper on top.

Keith walked into the kitchen as Lance scrambled to pick up the small sheet of paper on the box that was slowly dissolving into the tea. Reading aloud to himself, it said: “You said you always wanted a spring wedding, it’d be just  _ peachy  _ if I could be there for it. Will you marry me,  _ sugar _ ?”

Lance spun around to sprint to Keith’s room, wake him up, and tell him  _ yes, hell yes,  _ but was stopped short because he had reached over to the glass, plucked out the box, and went onto one knee.

“I know I’m working on some stuff right now, but it’d make me the happiest man in the world.”

_ Happiest man in the world,  _ Lance thought, and smiled. It was true. He was so, so  happy at this point in his life. Keith wasn’t the one to make puns, but he knew how much Lance loved them, so he’d make exceptions just to see that pearly white smile split his face in half with joy.

_ Oh, oh! _ Lance thought about the time he had asked Keith to dance with him at a mutual friend’s housewarming party. Shiro had a  _ huge  _ backyard and insisted everyone visit the house as an excuse to have a good time with a ton of people he knew and loved. Shiro was the guy who had introduced Keith and Lance to each other, and his party was when their mutual attraction took a step further.

“Hey Keith!” Lance had slurred, clearly a bit tipsy. “Look up! It’s a shooting star! I’m gonna work at Voltron Co. one day n’ study them!”

“Lance that’s a-”

“Will you make my wish come true?” Lance dragged the boy to the stone pavement under the canopy. “I made a wish on the star, Keith.”

“Lance-”

“Dance with me!” Lance had demanded softly and Keith went along with it, cheeks red and feet stumbling all over the place with exactly how nervous he was. At least it wasn’t any cheesy slow song, but it was their first open interaction and it was absolutely adorable. Once they were tired of letting loose and flowing with the upbeat music, Keith, breathless, smiled and went:

“Lance, that shooting star was an airplane you dumbass.”

 

Lance made it to the apartment in over fifty minutes, and was leisurely travelling up the elevator with the macaroons in a decorated little box. The desserts were heart shaped and dyed pink- something cheesy Lance would do and something dorky in-love Keith would admire. Lance knocked on the door of their apartment before letting himself in.

“Hey Keith? You up babe?” No response. Damn, he had to be sleeping. Lance took his shoes off by the door. Was he that rude to wake him up so he could eat macaroons? Lance looked at the time: almost midnight exactly. Considering Keith was normally up way beyond this hour, Lance stepped into their bedroom. The sheets and blankets were balled up in the middle of the bed. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees during Lance’s car ride and Keith tended to be a chilly sleeper. He went over to the lump and softly pressed his hand into. He met no resistance. He pushed the hand further with more firmness and felt nothing. He wasn’t in bed. 

Confused, Lance peered into their office, flicked on the lights. Nothing.

Bathroom? Nothing as well. 

Lance searched every inch of their apartment on the third floor, convinced he was going to hop from a hiding place and scare the shit out of the Cuban boy. After searching for a thorough ten minutes, he began to worry. Lance stepped out of the apartment and knocked on a neighbor’s door. He rang their doorbell and they still did not answer.

Groaning, Lance realized how late it was. What if Keith left and someone saw him leave? Where did he go?

_ Duh!  _ Lance thought wildly, bursting back into his apartment and onto the balcony. At first, he looked through the sliding doors to see if he could spot Keith’s car from there. With no luck, Lance opened the glass door and stepped out onto the freezing cold concrete of the shitty apartment balcony. He was still looking for Keith’s car because he was unsure if he saw it when he entered the apartment. The parking spaces weren’t ordered by apartment number or anything so he could have parked anywhere. He took another step to the railing and his foot was met by some liquid substance that was thicker than water. Shuddering in disgust, Lance looked down to see that he had stepped in something dark and a little sticky. It was warmer than the concrete, but not by much. Lifting his foot away in confusion, he saw the contrast of the color against his white socks and noticed it was a deep crimson. Out of the corner of his eye while examining his ruined sock in shock, he saw the trail of the substance lead to…

_ No… _ Lance couldn’t believe it. There, in the corner of the balcony, was Keith. He sat in khaki shorts and a black shirt. He could see as his eyes adjusted to the darkness that there were deep gashes along his thighs and up his forearms that spilled blood to pool on the balcony floor. Dropping to his knees immediately, shocked to silence, he pressed his shaking hand to his fiance’s chest to make sure he was still breathing. The inhales were shallow and proving that Keith had sat here, bleeding out for a very long time. The bloodied knife lay in his limp right hand, his fingers loosely wrapped around the handle. Stumbling to his feet, Lance reacher for his phone in his jean pocket. He pulled it out and pressed the home button-

The screen was black. “Shit!  _ Shit! _ ” if Lance wasn’t sobbing before, he surely was right now. The tears fell down his face as he practically hyperventilated between sobs. He ran out of the apartment and knocked on his neighbor’s door again, but to no avail. He went to the next neighbor, and the next, when  _ finally _ , the third neighbor’s door he knocked on answered him with a smile and a warm expression that ran cold immediately after the girl saw Lance.

“P-please, call 911,” he pleaded, his voice barely understandable over his quick breaths and tears. “I’m Lance, your neighbor… my friend- m-my  _ fiance _ , please. He’s hurt badly, he’s b-barely breathing,” Lance felt cold and he shivered, watching with hopeful and teary eyes as the woman scrambled for her phone, dialed 911 and ran over with Lance to check on Keith. 

“911, what’s your emergency.”

“Please, we need an ambulance- my neighbor- he’s dying please.”

“Alright ma’am, take deep breaths for me, what’s your address?”

“We live in the Woodvilla Apartments in Phoenix! Please, hurry!”

“Alright, we’re sending people your way now, do you live on the first floor ma’am-”

Lance and his neighbor reached Keith’s body, and she gasped so loudly it sent Lance into a frenzy of tears again.

“What’s the situation ma’am, please. We need to tell you how to keep him stable until we arrive. If you don’t live on the first floor, we’re going to need you to tell us your apartment number or meet us by the door. How is the man’s condition.”

“H-he’s hurt real bad- bleeding… a lot…” the neighbor deadpanned, “The number is uh…”

“It’s 2318! Please, hurry! W-what do we do, we can’t lose him please. O-our wedding’s in May…” Lance felt hopeless.

“Where are the wounds?”

“Th-they’re vertical, up and down the thighs a-and arms…”

The operator was silent. “How is his breathing,” he said at last.

“Really shallow-  _ please.  _ Hurry.”

“We will have professionals there in about four minutes sir. Try to put pressure on the main bloodstreams in the thigh. It will prevent a lot of further bleeding. You two need to stay calm, we are doing everything we can.”

Lance felt Keith’s cold body against his hands and froze. His eyes formed unrelenting tears and his heart stopped. His face petrified, he moved his hand to place pressure on where he thought the vein was in his thigh. The operator was talking to the neighbor, a woman whose name is Colleen. She asked Lance questions he couldn’t hear or focus on as he put all his attention on watching Keith’s chest rise and fall.

“Lance- please… Is he going through anything? Any addiction, any allergies?”

“This was his first month free of therapy… t-the therapist said he was fine! They said he improved so much and they felt they had no purpose to continue treating him!! T-the only thing he’s allergic to is nickel… I-it is a weird one, but he’s unique…”

“The ambulance should be there shortly sir, we are doing everything in our power to save your friend. How long has he been bleeding?”

“ _ Fiance, _ ” Lance angrily corrected before sobbing again, “I-I don’t know… I just got home and saw him… He seemed fine over text, operator…”

“He was probably very distant in minor ways you weren’t noticing... unless you do not think it was self-harm?”

Lance grit his teeth, wanting to hold his head in his hands and sob until he himself dies of dehydration but he couldn’t even wipe the tears from his face because he was trying to cease the never-ending blood that was consistently streaming out of Keith’s thigh. 

The ambulance came as soon as they could and hustled up three fleets of stairs so fast that as soon as they arrived, it was under two minutes they were flying through Lance’s door and lifting Keith into a gurney and lugged him away again. Lance grabbed his phone charger and darted after them, forgetting to thank Colleen. She had seen Lance’s keys on the kitchen counter, locked his door for him, and taken the macaroons. She met Lance by the exit to the apartment building as he went to run back up the stairs.

She saw him, stopped him, and handed him the keys and the macaroons. She hugged him tightly and let him cry for a minute until he let go. “They left too fast for me to ride with him…” he muttered, half to himself.

“Go Lance, make sure he’s okay. I expect an invite to the wedding,” she spoke softly and seriously, a hand on his shoulder. He smiled weakly and darted off, running to get to his car and chase the ambulance to the hospital. 

Driving up to the emergency section doors, he got out of his car and began to run towards the doors. With tears still blurring his eyesight, he noticed the brightest shooting star dart across the almost black night sky, and before he rushed to the receptionist:

_ Please,  _ Lance wished,  _ I’ll never ask for anything again if you give me him back. _

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

But it was only an airplane.


End file.
